The Lost Sister
by deanplaysguitarforcas
Summary: The backstory of Roxy from skylastarwalker's Demon Hunt. Roxy is the younger half-sister of the Winchesters, and she has her own story to tell.. Rated T for violence and some language. I do not own Supernatural, and nothing belongs to me but my OCs. Please review!
1. Chapter 1

**This is the beginning of Roxy's life as a hunter. If you haven't read Demon Hunt by Skylastarwalker (with a little bit of help from yours truly), read it! R&R please, I'd like feedback, guys.**

* * *

This is how Roxy began.

_ Some people say we're born with our destiny. Others say it comes in its own time. I think that's bullcrap. Destiny is like clay. You can mold it into anything if you want _

_to, with enough determination. But you leave it and don't come back for a while, it dries out, and you can't shape it anymore. You can try, but it'll just break and then you have nothing._

_ My name's Roxy. Roxanne Cassidy Campbell Winchester. It's a long name for such a short person. So, really, it's Roxy. I'm 5'9". Well, short compared to my brothers, aka giant moose. Moose? Or maybe it's meese... _

_So, destiny. Right. When did destiny appear on the table in front of me, beckoning? I suppose it's the night I woke up to Alex screaming._


	2. Chapter 2

I think it was October 16th. I was twelve years old. I woke up, to a completely dark room. My alarm clock cast a green shadow on my face. 3:00 A.M. Alex was shrieking and wailing. I rolled out of bed, tore open the door, and dashed into his bedroom. My little brother was still asleep, tangled in his rocketship sheets, thrashing, screeching horribly. I shook him.

"Alex! Alex, wake up. Come on, it's just a nightmare. It's all okay," I told him. Little did I know that was a lie. Alex moaned and his big brown puppy eyes opened. His forehead was beaded with sweat. He grabbed me, hugging me tightly.

"It's okay," I repeated. "You're just fine." "It was awful," Alex whimpered. "Terrible." My little brother had a vocabulary beyond his eight years. I pushed his dark hair that was sticking to his forehead with sweat. "I know. Would you like me to stay in here?" Alex nodded, and relaxed slowly. He let me smooth out his sheets, and tuck him in. I clambered in after him, flicking on his bedside lamp, bathing the room in a warm golden glow. I lay awake with my brother for perhaps an hour. He fell asleep nearly instantly and had no other nightmare. I closed my eyes and reached for the lamp, turning it off. I should've kept it on. I should've stayed awake all night, savoring the time I rarely got with the brother I practically raised. I should've craved the light, because of the darkness ahead.


	3. Disclaimer!

Quick disclaimer!

i own none of these characters except for Roxy, Alex, Logan, Aria, Mark, Cassie, and Raela, whom I created. Supernatural does not belong to me, nor do its contents.


	4. Chapter 3

_hola mi amigos! New chapter! this is just to warn_ _you: our dearest Roxy cusses in this quite a lot, and there is brief violence in this or following chapters! Please review, pretty please!_

* * *

**I did** mention I hate destiny, right? Some people claim when those two yahoos showed up on my doorstep, that was destiny. See, October 20th wasn't supposed to be "fateful". Leaves had just started to fall from the trees, I'd been sent to detention (again), and I was ready to fall asleep and hit the bed. I would've, actually, but Alex wanted Mac and Cheese. He wasn't allowed to answer the door, but I have a feeling they would've kicked it down. So, Destiny, huh? Bullshit. But if you're into that stuff, then I guess that day was. Sort of.

* * *

_I kicked _my boots up on the desk. Detention sucked. I watched the clock tick agonizingly slow. There wasn't even a proper teacher for me to smirk at as I wasted their time. It was some aide or another, reading a cheesy romance novel. Every so often, she'd peek out from behind it. I would present her a wonderful, neatly wrapped gift known as the wolf stare. She usually made some sort of squeaking noise that got caught in her throat, and disappear behind the stupid romance novel again. This had gone on for nearly an hour.

Two minutes left. Tick tock.

Alex got out of school in fifteen minutes. I could bail if I wanted to. I'd done it before. Like giving me more detention would help. None of the aides or teachers reported me anyway. Actually, I'm pretty sure they were scared of me. This girl, for sure, was terrified of "that Campbell girl". That's who I was here. Not Roxy, "that Campbell girl". Like I was to be held up as such a thing to teach other kids, "No, don't be like that Campbell girl".

Maybe my problem was I just didn't give a shit. I'd stopped when I was eight, and Mark withdrew. Maybe detention was an excuse to not have to spend time in my house with an absent father figure. He sure as hell didn't make much of a contribution to raising Alex.

Just as my infamous temper is about to explode, the aide whispers. "It's over. You can go home." I push my chair out, and walk out the door. I glimpse her peeking out again, eyes wide. I turn away, wondering if being feared is good for me. I pause as I grip the front door handle. Yes. Yes, it is.

* * *

I turn right three blocks from my school. Alex's elementary school isn't far, so, that's helpful. He's already waiting at the corner, blue backpack slung over his shoulder, big pools of chocolate brown eyes. Of course, a smile plastered on his face. That smile's nearly erasable, except during one fight Mom and Mark had. They both shouted awful things. Alex cried. But now he's just so pleased to see his below-average sister, that a smile warms my face in the already-chilled October wind.

Alex bounces up to me. "Hi, Roxy! How was your day? Did you have homework? Can we make Mac and Cheese? I'm hungry!" I laugh, and ruffle his dark hair. "My day was just fine. And all right, I'll make some, but after that, I'm going to sleep, okay?" Alex nods, head bobbing energetically. He's got some spark in him I lost a long time ago. I wonder if I can find it again. Or if I want it again.

* * *

As soon as I open the front door of our little two story house, I am put in a foul mood. I can see Mark's closed office door upstairs from the threshold. Alex, however, appears unfazed. He bobs into the kitchen, immediately digging through the pantry. I force a laugh and run after him.

He burrows furiously through the cans and goods on the shelves. I can't stop laughing. He finally achieves his goal of digging through every shelf space except for the cabinet he can't reach. Mom was smart, putting Alex's favorite food in there. He stands on his tiptoes and strains, but it is too high up.

I open it for him, and bestow the box on him like I'm God. He dashes to the stove, and kneels down to the cabinets below, and begins rummaging through the pans and pots. I move to help Alex, but the doorbell rings.

I groan and roll my eyes. This is the last thing I need. I wonder if it's the mail guy and he'll just leave.

The bell rings again. Ding dong.

I tromp towards the door, wiping the scowl from my face, trying to act like I'm not super annoyed. I pull open the door, but Alex is still clanging pots and pans. "Alex! Knock it off!" I shout. It goes quiet, but I hear him touch two pots together.

I turn back towards whoever's on my doorstep. It's two men.

One is tall, wearing a blue plaid shirt. The other's a little bit shorter, wearing a leather jacket and black shirt. They both look anxious.

"Hey, um..." The shorter one begins, but clearly can't finish. He looks at the guy beside him. "You're the Holmes' neighbor?" The tall one asks.

This is already making me uncomfortable. Nobody new comes to the neighborhood. Nobody ever asks anyone for anything. And something's off about these two. I decide to tell them to get the hell off my doorstep politely.

"Um, sorry, but they live right next door, so if you've got some problem, go talk to them. I'm really sorry but I'm brother-sitting." The tall one's eyes widened. "You haven't heard?" He asked. "Heard what?" I ask. Some other stupid rumor, I'd wage. There were a lot of those traveling about.

But the Holmes were nice. Mr. Holmes taught me how to carve wood when I was small, and Mrs. Holmes used to come around a lot, smelling like cookie sugar and apples. She'd stay and chat with Mom for hours.

Both of the guya look surprised. They glance at each other. "They, um..." The shorter one begins, scratching the back of his head. "They died. They got killed. Er... Our mom was friends with them... and they left her some stuff, but we can't get in.. Could you maybe help us out?" He looks at me with just the right amount of pleading in his eyes.

_You can't trust anyone anymore. _Mark's words ring in my ears, the last words he said to me. After Kam's funeral. Then he shut me out. Shut us all out. Like we didn't know what it was like, how to hurt. The mere thought of Mark makes me angry. So why did I remember that?

I look at them, those two boys. And I think of everything that they must have that I haven't gotten, and I wonder what it's like. I don't know if I want it. But something in their eyes tells me a message beyond words. Beyond lies. And I take a very slow breath.

I stick out my hand. "I'm Roxy," I say, meeting their eyes. "It's a pleasure."

The shorter one shakes my hand. His face is tanned, with hair lighter than the other one's, eyes the same shade I see in the mirror every morning. My eyes flicker to the second boy. Darker hair, darker eyes. But kind eyes. Eyes with the faintest of laugh lines.

"I'm Dean," he replies. "This is my brother, Sam. Good to meet you."


	5. Chapter 4

The Lost Sister Just about the dumbest shit you can do is to blatantly pick your dead neighbor's deadbolt. But I've never been considered smart, so who cares? Alex has probably started a house fire, but I don't care, really. I'm pretty sure he knows where the fire extinguisher is, anyway.

Sam and Dean linger behind me uncomfortably. They're probably wondering where I got lock-picking tools and skills. Kam, of course.

Ah, yes. Kam. Alex used to call him Yam, when he couldn't really speak very well, which he didn't particularly like, and naturally, I made fun of. Kam was my brother. Kameron, technically. My older brother. I remember he had shaggy dark blonde hair, like me, though I pride myself on NOT being shaggy, and these amazing blue eyes, laugh lines already showing around his eyes. He was fourteen when he died. Fourteen.

I close off this train of thought. It won't lead anywhere good, I know. I finish, and the lock clicks. I jump back, satisfaction filling me. "Done. So, um, try not to like, blow anything up, okay?" Sam frowns, brow creasing. "Wasn't planning on it," Dean replies. "Why?" I carefully put my tools in my back jeans pocket. "Because I just did some seriously stupid shit for you two and I'm really hoping to maybe not go to juvie today, okay? Blowing things up would not help me in my crusade to bullshit my way out of being arrested."

"Touché," Dean says. "Thanks," Sam tells me. Dean nods in agreement. "Yeah. We'll just pick up the stuff and leave, no worries," he says. I allow a frown to flit across my face. "Okay. Well, if you succeed in not destroying the house, you could come and have a beer." I only say that to sound polite. In reality, no, they won't come over, either they'll forget or they won't care, I know.

Both of them look surprised, but one corner of Dean's mouth pulls up. "Cool. Thanks." Sam allows a tiny smile to filter on his face. "See ya," I tell them as I walk away, down the sidewalk, but I pause, wondering if I've made a mistake. Probably.

But I really don't care. I mean, I should've, but I didn't. Because I've overheard the poetry geeks at school, I'll say it. So it begins.


End file.
